Sunday, March 26, 2017

However, Sweet Cheeks (yes that is a name) did not especially reflect eating qualities from either parent.
Large but not huge, the Cheeks is conical, with slight ribbing. The blush is streaky red over yellow with some areas that are nearly saturated. This blush is decorated with many small tan lenticels ranging from tiny and close together to larger and more widely spaced.

Those lenticels are slightly indented in the peel, an understated echo of Honeycrisp, which is dimpled. The calyx gapes wide, and the peel is glossy. No aroma.

The bite is the big reveal. There's crisp, breaking flesh, medium-coarse and light yellow. The apple is sweet but partially balanced by some tartness.

However, there's very little distinctive flavor—like a Red Delicious in that regard—but Sweet Cheeks has a clean lychee note and, in one sample, some floral accents in towards the core.

Despite a decent crunch (though nothing like that of its famous parent), Sweet Cheeks is a little low in the flavor department.

It strikes me as the sort of apple that, with a some marketing umph, might have been popular 10 or 15 years ago, before the current trend toward flavor.

The name seems to prove Rowan Jacobsen's cynical observation that modern apples are all named for strippers. It is a trademark held by Hess Brothers, a Pennsylvania grower that perhaps originated this variety.

I can't find a plant patent, however, so am at a loss say which of Sweet Cheeks's famous parents provides the pollen and which provides the seed.

Plant patents are all about physical description and lineages, but trademarks don't deal with that—are pretty dull, actually. Behold the papers for the saccharine-cheeked one.